


tell me lies, baby, tell me how you hate me

by gayzelda



Category: Dead To Me (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24350473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayzelda/pseuds/gayzelda
Summary: she can't stop, this craving for her that's driving her insane, this actual fucking need for her that's making her skin hot and raw and leaving her unable to concentrate
Relationships: Judy Hale/Jen Harding
Comments: 18
Kudos: 245





	tell me lies, baby, tell me how you hate me

Jen’s a little rough with her, sometimes, when she moves her to the side, a hand too tight on her hip, when she pushes her with a laugh, when she pulls her by her hand or her arm after her, and every time Judy has to fight something back that could be a gasp, that could be an almost moan. Her best friend touches her casually, grip firm on her thigh, and Judy has to fight back the urge to squirm in her seat, has to pretend like it doesn’t affect her, has to act like she isn’t thinking about what it would be like to have all of that up on her, all of Jen’s intensity and her anger and the passion that’s love, actually, but which she displays as something callous, something cruel, sometimes. She thinks about the way that Jen had pursued that guy, at the grief retreat, all hot and fierce and unyielding, and she can practically feel the blush rise up her neck. 

Sometimes Jen does something, like she holds her hip a little too long, let's her fingers squeeze, and when Judy looks at her her head is cocked to the side, considering, like she's trying to read Judy's thoughts, like maybe she saw something. It's all some kind of brutal and analytical, like Jen knows the effect she has on her and she just can't help pushing, can't help wanting to see it play out across Judy's face, wants to see Judy  _ wanting _ , and Judy kind of loves it, wants to be pushed back into the counter, Jen's arms a cage around her, wants to feel her closer and closer. Judy knows they'd do anything for each other, but these days she's getting to a point where she thinks she'd just do anything to know what Jen kisses like. To know what it's like when she really let's go, no holds barred, when all she's concentrating on is making her fall apart, wants to know what it's like to be caught in the tsunami that is Jen when she really gets her teeth into something. 

They drink wine and Jen rests her hand on her thigh, grip tight like she's holding her down, a little, and Judy can only think of very different contexts for her to be doing that in, can only think of Jen's teeth on her neck and Judy unable to do anything but tell her to do it harder, to make it hurt. She likes a little pain sometimes, could definitely see herself liking it from Jen, who hurts just as much as she loves, who hurts in a way that's symptomatic of it. Bruises from her would feel different, would feel like signs of the ways in which Jen feels so much for her that she doesn't know what to do with it, and sometimes when she looks at Judy she can see it in her face. Can see that she wants to tear her apart, wants to tear her way into her, and it's maybe one of the hottest things she's ever been on the receiving end of. She wanders what Jen would do, if she wriggles a little, fought the hand on her thigh, if she would clamp down harder, and she thinks that she probably wouldn't be able to hide her reaction to that, wouldn't be able to stop the way her legs would fall open and her eyes would go wide, the little puff of air that would leave her mouth and make it obvious what she's thinking of. When she looks up at Jen she's already looking at her, hot and sharp and like she already knows, like maybe she's toying with her food, and she almost shivers, almost just offers herself up to her, feels the warmth of a blush up her neck, knows Jen can see it in the light from the TV.

They talk about sex, because they're friends and friends do that when they're a little drunk and it's a lot late, talk about what they like, and Judy tries to skirt around it, says that she likes most things while Jen gives her her shark's smile and says well you would. Judy wants to argue, wants to ask what she thinks she knows, but she thinks that would be too close to leaving herself vulnerable, leaving herself for Jen to smile and lean in close and say I know what you think about, when you go distant and you tense up in my grip. She thinks that Jen would, sometimes, thinks that she's almost always about to say something that would reveal that she knows Judy's ridiculously horny for her best friend, but instead she just tilts her head and narrows her eyes a little, like she wants Judy desperate enough to admit it. It's a one woman campaign to make Judy lose it, and at the moment she's losing in a fight she was never destined to win.

She thinks of Judy, all warm sunshine and eyes that say choose me, love me, thinks of how she looks, sometimes, when she gives in a little and squeezes, of the way that her mouth drops open the smallest bit, the way her eyes widen and her blush spreads up her neck. She thinks about how Judy would give in, easily, would be wet and waiting for her as soon as she dug her thumbs into her hip bones, the way she'd shiver as she breathed on her neck, dragging it out, already making her wait. She thinks she'd make her ask for it, would make her feel like she was going a little crazy before she gave her any relief. The idea of Judy warm and wet and underneath her is enough to get Jen off most of the time, thinking of flushed cheeks and pale, pale skin, her vibrator in one hand, pretending like this whole thing is totally okay for her to be doing, like she's not gonna have to go downstairs for dinner soon and act like she wasn't doing anything, act like she doesn't spend half of her time wondering what Judy sounds like when she comes.

Jen's not thinking as she pulls Judy closer to her one night, after some wine, while they're watching TV on her bed, not under the covers like that makes it platonic, like that means Judy will actually go to her own bed tonight (she won't). She grabs her arm and pulls and Judy falls into her easily, like they do this all of the time, because they do if she's honest, which she isn't, usually, inside her own head, and she plays with Judy's hair and listens to how her breathing starts to even out. She scratches her scalp, lets her nails scrape against Judy's neck, and Judy almost covers it, she almost doesn't hear, but her breath stutters and Jen's paying enough attention to know. She does it again, slowly, just one finger down the side of her neck, applying pressure, her hand under her hair, and Judy kind of jerks, like she's trying not to have any kind of reaction to it. Jen smiles and it's almost cold, like blue fire, but Judy's too scared to look up and see it, too worried about what Jen's looking at. She thinks she's watching the TV, thinks her movements are absentminded and she doesn't want to draw attention to herself by moving, especially not when Jen goes back to her soothing motions of before like nothing happened. 

It's almost a fucking game, pushing Judy as far as she can before she cracks, before she ends up just asking for what she wants. Jen looks at her in that way that says I love you and that means I want to tear into the very center of you, I love you and sometimes that means I want to see you sobbing and desperate and wanting and wet and open and all of those other things that Jen thinks she could make Judy be for her. She thinks about how Judy would react if she said "good girl", thinks about what she'd do if she slid that into casual conversation, thinks about how Judy would react if she said it while she had her fingers in her mouth and almost has to sit down. She thinks about Judy and her mouth gets dry and there's a taste in the back of her throat like metal, like adrenaline, and all she wants is to know what it would be like to be inside her. 

Judy thinks of hot pale eyes and warm deliberate fingers as she comes, face pressed into her pillows, the guesthouse silent around her, and the next day every time Jen touches her she feels a flash of something woozy, like guilt, like desire. It's so fucked up; she killed her husband and now she wants her so badly that when she touches her she has to fight not to gasp, not to lean into it, has to ignore a low throb and the way her nipples tighten. She's almost training herself into it, but every time she tries to come without thinking of her it's imagining someone that isn't her but by the time she's close it always is, but the time she's almost there she's got Jen whispering "come on baby" in her ear, and she's shuddering, imagining her fingers are Jen's.

She has a dream, one that leaves her soaking and almost moaning aloud when she shifts, her hips pressing into the mattress before she's even conscious, and then she realises that she's in Jen's bed, that Jen's arm is slung across her back, her leg over hers, one of Judy's arms numb underneath her weight. The dream was this position just with Jen's fingers on her clit, her arm hooked around her, Judy trying to move but not really able to, bucking against her to get more pressure and not able to get any, Jen kissing the back of her neck. She debates getting up, running into the bathroom, but she couldn't manage it without waking her, and she's pretty sure she's still asleep, breathing still low and steady behind her, so she just holds extremely still, tries to calm down. She feels like if she could just grind against the mattress a few times she'd get off and be able to go to sleep, but Jen is literally on her, and she can't wake her up, can't do anything but stay very still and try to concentrate on her numb arm, tries not to think about how she might have moved while she was still unconscious, still in the throes of her dream, hopes that Jen is  _ really  _ asleep, hopes she didn't do anything like gasp out a  _ Jen _ .

She starts to think of that night as The Incident, but it happens again, and after the second time she avoids Jen's bed for a little while, until she can't help herself again. She can't help it, the way she's drawn to Jen, the way that she feels powerless to do anything but capitulate under her gaze, feels a need to give her anything she wants, and she hates the part of her that desperately wants her to want her. She thinks she sees it, she honestly does, when Jen tilts her head to the side and considers her, like she's a science project or a house she's trying to sell, something about that impersonal weighing up leaving her breathless. Jen's driving her insane and she doesn't even need to do anything, just needs to look at her, sometimes, just needs to look at her like she's teasing, even if she's teasing in a way that's nothing like how Judy is taking it.

Some days, and she doesn't even know what it is, what Judy has to do, but she'll just have one stray fleeting thought and before she knows it she wants Judy so much she can feel her heartbeat, can feel something low and aching. Those days she goes to bed earlier and by the time she's made it across her room and into bed she's got her jeans halfway down her thighs and is fumbling her rabbit out of her drawer, doesn't even take her jeans actually off before she's shoving it between her thighs, vaguely thinking about whether she locked the fucking door and too far gone already to think any further. Half the time it's just because she pressed against Judy when she was reaching for something, because she thought about pressing her against the kitchen counter, because she had a tiny thought about whether Judy's loud or not (she thinks she probably is). 

They exist all on top of each other, both of them in each other's space at all times, both of them seemingly unable to find distance or a way to really want it, to want it beyond the knowledge that they're straying close to something which could be a bad idea. Which will definitely be a horrible idea if it's one-sided, if it turns out Jen is tactile because she's lonely and if Judy is just like this with everyone. Jen feels like she's running headlong into something that should be easy to avoid, feels like a teenager because she can't control her libido, instead of a grown-ass woman who should have better control of herself, acting like a crazy person who needs to have at least two orgasms a day so she can spend time with her hot best friend without feeling like she needs to excuse herself so she doesn't end up pulling Judy to her, so she doesn't end up trying to see how many fingers Judy likes, whether she needs to be worked up to three like Jen does. She thinks she might be losing her mind when it gets to the point that she's absentmindedly shopping for a strap-on harness, on her laptop in bed at midnight while considering putting her hand down her pyjamas, even though she still lives in this limbo where she has no idea whether Judy wants this too, when she's shopping for a fantasy. 

She leans around her to get something, and her eyes flicker up to hers from looking at the wine glass she was reaching for, and she sees  _ something _ in Judy's eyes, something that makes her blood rise, something that brings forward that taste in her throat. The way she wants Judy is metallic and loud and fierce and she doesn't think she can ignore it anymore, not when a half step closer and her hands flat on the counter on either side of her make Judy swallow audibly, she thinks maybe this is a horrible idea, but at least the kids are in bed, and she can kiss Judy however much she wants. Judy reaches for her instantly, immediately, arching towards her, hand on the back of her neck, hand on her cheek. She responds to the kiss like she's desperate for it, like all she wants is for Jen to devour her, because that's all she's been able to think about for months, is Jen's white teeth against her throat and her hands all over her. 

"Upstairs," Judy manages, breathless and her knees weak, one of her hands balled in the fabric of Jen's shirt, holding on like she thinks she might fall.

"Are you sure?" she asks, gaze analysing, eyes dark, and Judy nods enthusiastically, just about manages to stop herself from murmuring a please.

Jen locks the door and pushes her, a little, so she falls onto the bed with a huff, climbs onto her lap and kisses her hard and wet and eager, mouth open and breath fast. Judy holds on, hands slipping under her shirt, bare skin against her palms hot and soft and it feels like everything she's ever wanted. She kisses her neck and Judy moans, knows she's already wet even though they've barely started, and she starts unbuttoning her own shirt, trying to offer herself up to Jen, trying to tell her without words how much she needs her, trying to tell her that she's ready without needing much else, that she's been ready for months. 

"Someone's eager," Jen says, against her neck, her hands helping to push her shirt off. "Just like I thought you would be," she continues, and Judy moans.

"You've thought about me?"

"Only every fucking second for fucking months," Jen practically groans and Judy gasps, a little, quietly. She skims her palms across the soft skin of Judy's torso, pulls back to look, and Judy unsnaps her own bra, looking at Jen, tracking the way she reacts, seeing the way she swallows, licks her lips, and all she wants is to get her skirt off too, all she wants is for Jen to touch her, to throw her over the edge.

"Jen, please," she murmurs, when Jen just looks for a second too long, when she doesn't move forward, because Judy thinks she might lose it soon, is already rubbing her thighs together underneath her.

"God, you're fucking gorgeous," and her voice is all hoarse, all gravel and want and something that makes Judy all shivery, makes her want her even more.

"Jen," she says, and it's quiet and low and desperate, and Jen meets her eyes and pushes her up the bed, towards the pillows, lays her out, leaning over her and kissing her, pressing her down with her body weight in a way that makes Judy roll her body up into her, like she needs even more of that pressure. She's already bucking her hips, already trying to get some kind of friction, but Jen's got too much choice, doesn't know where to start, wants to kiss and explore and find out what makes Judy lose it, find every spot on her body that'll make her react, but that seems unfair when she's already clawing at her back. She trails a hand up her thigh, watches it disappear under her skirt, feels her arousal somehow rocket even higher at the image, watching as she slowly pushes it up, feeling like she's holding her breath. 

She cups her over her panties, listens to Judy moan and looks up to see Judy's eyes closed and her cheeks flushed, her mouth open, breath fast. She hooks a finger in lace, pulls them out from under her skirt, and that image is one she wants to keep forever too, and somehow the skirt stays on, somehow it seems like too much trouble when she can just shove it up around Judy's waist and press her fingers against her, feel wetness and groan against Judy's neck. She thinks she might have forgotten to breathe as she tentatively touches, as she feels around, and Judy's moving her hips, trying to get her where she wants her, and when she touches her clit her hand shoots down and grabs Jen's wrist, as though she's scared she'll take it back, like she's worried that Jen won't let her come. Jen almost doesn't have to do any work, which is maybe good because she's so busy drinking it all in, too busy staring at Judy, beautiful under the main lights, too rushed for mood lighting, chest flushed and shoulders tight. She comes way too quickly, Jen isn't done, and she doesn't stop moving, and Judy's still moaning, starting to move her hips again, and Jen cautiously finds her entrance, slips in two fingers, and Judy's grip on her wrist doesn't loosen. She gives her a hickey, because she can, and she doesn't know if it's that or the way that she crooks her fingers that makes Judy gasp, so she repeats both motions, twisting her hand to get her thumb on her clit, good at this just because she never considered that she could be anything else. 

Judy comes, again, and Jen let's her go this time, removes her hand and looks at her fingers, soaking, and takes a moment to consider before pushing them at Judy's lips, who takes them inside easily, her eyes flickering open so she give Jen a heavy lidded gaze as she sucks on them. Jen can't help the way she kisses her after that, ravenous and hungry like she'll never get enough of her, like she'll never be able to stop, and god she wants to fuck her again already, doesn't even realise she's grinding herself on Judy's hip, too consumed with everything that Judy is, too busy being made breathless by the entire situation. She feels crazy, breathing into Judy's mouth then sucking at her neck, wet fingers settling on one of her nipples, and she's not concentrating on what Judy's doing with her hands until she feels a touch on her stomach, the back of Judy's fingers making her stomach muscles jump, knocking the breath out of her lungs.

Judy unbuttons her jeans slowly but with purpose, shoves her hand inside them and her panties too, the angle awkward but she doesn't think it'll take very much, Jen practically incoherent from fucking her. She gets her fingers on her clit, circles, and Jen's had no foreplay, technically, but this is perfect, so good she's grinding into it, her forehead coming to rest on the pillows next to Judy's head, totally lost from the first touch. She finishes, Judy not stopping her movements until Jen's hips stop, and she doesn't move her hand until one of her fingers twitches and Jen jerks.

"Sorry," she says, sheepish, withdrawing her hand, and Jen laughs, shaky and struck with what just happened, and it should be over but one look at Judy and she wants to be all over her again, thinks she'll never be done. "So I guess we should talk about this, huh?" 

"Later," Jen says, shrugging. "First I wanna actually get this fucking stupid skirt off of you," and her grin is so wolfish that Judy just surges up to kiss her. 

  
  



End file.
